I’ve been thinking about portraits. No small surprise, as this assignment is people, people, people. Mostly though, it’s a superficial glance with the camera at people—sitting on the quad, in class, a quick close-up of a face. It’s not an uncommon scenario with a lot of commercial work, and that’s OK.
But this assignment includes some environmental portraits, and that is a treat. I get to spend time with my subject and get to know them a little bit. I’m not surprising them with the camera—we made a date for this. As I’m looking through my take, I’m starting to arrive at a theory about why some people photograph well, and some don’t.
One faculty member looked like a natural. She was pretty, vivacious, intelligent, engaging. The student was quiet, not very talkative, and it felt as though he was hiding under his ball cap. I know how this is going to go, I thought.
I was wrong. The attractive woman, though smiling throughout our session, looked tense in most of the shots. She was invested in how she projected, and it was work. It looked like work on her face. The schlubby guy? A natural.
The people who are most "photogenic" are those who are comfortable inside their own skin. They have the ability and the capacity to be seen, and not merely by the camera. It is the fundamental basis of intimacy, this willingness to be seen, and photography is a particular kind of intimate exchange. The best portraits are those where something is disclosed on both sides, and one’s capacity to meet in that moment is matched in the other.
I had two students in the afternoon who were perfect subjects. Both artists. It may be that they were already used to a kind of disclosure in their art. The sessions felt calming to me and also, I think, to them. It rejuvenated me for the remainder of the day.
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